


Elevator Music

by inmyriadbits



Category: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011)
Genre: Elevators, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:10:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2807180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inmyriadbits/pseuds/inmyriadbits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julia is pretty sure most people don't have to worry about running into their exes like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elevator Music

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brenda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/gifts).



> A million thanks to ignipes and spatz for their beta work! Kali holds sole ~~blame~~ credit for the Bad Mustache epithet. Thanks, lady. :)

Julia stepped onto the hotel elevator, phone in hand. The elevator was empty, so Julia didn't even have to glance away from her typing as she hit the button for her floor.

Two of the conference panels this afternoon looked interesting. One of the women from the meet-and-greet had emailed asking Julia to join her group for lunch, which was at a slightly inconvenient time for both panels. She’d have to turn the offer down if the restaurant was any sort of distance away, but it might be doable, so Julia opened the message and started drafting a request for more information.

Three floors later, the doors pinged open. A couple of people got on, and Julia didn't miss a beat in her typing as she asked, "What floor?" Julia was standing in front of the bank of buttons; it was only polite. Plus, she'd had her fair share of men who used the excuse of reaching past her to invade her personal space. Not today, thanks.

Silence greeted her question, and she glanced up.

Ethan stood across the elevator from her.

Julia stared.

Ethan gave her a bland look, then shifted his gaze away. She distantly noted that the other guy who’d boarded with Ethan was sporting some truly awful facial hair, and eyeing her suspiciously.

What the fuck.

"Um...what floor?" She repeated, grabbing onto the courtesy like a lifeline. 

Terrible Mustache Guy beside Ethan — no, not beside; to the side, yes, but a little behind, and unusually close — said "Forty."

Julia said, "Sure!" but thought _stall, stall, stall_.

And then hit the button for floor 14.

The man made an exasperated noise. "No, I said 'forty'."

Julia looked up from pretending to be absorbed in her phone. "Hmm?" She shifted her weight as she spoke, and caught a glimpse of something metal pressed between Ethan and the other man. Okay, that worked for her as confirmation. The mustache wasn’t the only thing bad about this guy, and Ethan was trying to keep her out of it. 

To hell with that.

" _Forty_ ," Bad Mustache repeated.

"Oh! Oh my god, I'm sorry," she exclaimed, turning to hit the correct number.

In her ‘haste’, Julia managed to hit the button for floor 38 as well.

"It's fine," the man gritted out.

They stood in silence for the next several floors. When the elevator stopped at 14, Julia declined to press the "Door Close" button.

The moment stretched; Mustache shifted impatiently. Ethan stood absolutely still. Julia tried frantically to think of something to do next.

As the doors began to drift shut, Julia heard "Hold the elevator!" She lunged forward and waved her hand over the sensor, causing the doors to pop obligingly open.

A man rushed up, saying "Thank you!" He was breathless; Julia thought that with arms like his, he was a little too in shape to be breathless from a short jog down the hall, and hoped.

"What floor?" she repeated, stepping aside as the new guy boarded. The change in angle let her see that Mustache had a knife pressed to Ethan's spine, and she bit her lip.

New Guy looked at her and, to her surprise, went briefly wide-eyed. He shut it down fast, managing, "Thirty-seven, please," with a relatively neutral expression, but shot a quick glance at Ethan, who just continued practicing his poker face.

She didn't recognize New Guy, but he clearly recognized her. And was probably an ally. Oh, Ethan was going to owe her for this. Who cared that she lived in another city than her ex-husband and was forbidden from contact with everyone she used to know? She would find a way for him to pay. But first: the elevator...situation.

The elevator proceeded to make four stops in six floors, none of which let on any passengers. Julia could practically _feel_ Bad Mustache’s irritation spiking. New Guy was acting nonchalant, but Julia got the sense he was waiting. 

Between the random elevator stops, the knife, Ethan’s inaction, and someone who knew her face but maintained Ethan’s show of non-recognition....Julia was starting to get the picture.

So, she dropped her phone. It was really more of a toss, honestly.

“Oops,” Julia said, leaning over to pick it up from behind the mustached bad guy asshole holding a knife on her ex-husband.

Then she punched him in the back of the knee.

The man’s leg buckled; Ethan whirled and grabbed for the knife; New Guy went for the man’s free hand; and Julia dove out of everyone’s way.

Well, she did kick the guy right in the mustache as he fell over. It seemed like the thing to do.

Ethan wrestled the man into a sleeper hold while his co-worker (Julia assumed) did something involving jabbing a syringe while simultaneously breaking Mustache’s thumb and prying a small device from his hand. It looked a lot like a call button from the hospital, but the careful way New Guy held it suggested otherwise.

"I have the trigger," he said, then winced. "Jesus, Benji, stop yelling over comms."

"Are we good?" Ethan asked.

New Guy paused, listening. "We’re good. Jane says it’s lucky we didn't get past 38, or the proximity sensors might have gone off."

Julia, crouched against the wall near the panel of buttons, said, "So...what floor now?" And then completely cracked up. Whee, adrenaline rush.

Ethan dropped the now-unconscious man in a heap and stood. "I think Benji’s got us covered."

Julia laughed harder as the elevator sped right past her own, still-lit floor, and came to a stop at 30.

"Will?" Ethan prompted, apparently talking to New Guy. Thank god; Julia was sick of calling him that, even in her own head.

New Guy — Will — edged out of the elevator and scanned the hallway. “We’re clear.”

He and Ethan each slung one of the guy’s arms over their shoulders and lifted him between them. Julia held the door, biting back giggles.

A door opened down the corridor, and a tall, athletic black women stepped out. “Come on, hurry,” she said, and stepped back into the room.

They all hustled inside. Will and Ethan dropped the mystery man on a chair, and finally, Ethan turned to face Julia.

“What the hell, Ethan?” she blurted, and whacked him on the shoulder. “Of all the fucking gin joints in all the world, seriously.”

“Why aren’t you in Seattle?” he returned, not answering her question. Typical.

“My supervisor got sick, so they sent me to this conference in her place. And _I’m_ asking the questions. Proximity sensors?" Julia asked. "No, wait — you know what? I don't think I really want to know."

"It's classified, anyway," Ethan replied, and grinned at her.

"Of course it is," Julia said, and grabbed him into a hug.

“Um….” She turned to see Benji standing there, hand raised like a kid. “I thought she was dead? Why is she not dead? Why is Will not more surprised? I am very surprised.”

“Yeah, and does he know me?” Julia asked, pointing at Will. “I’m pretty sure we’ve never met.”

Ethan just said, “Julia’s not dead because we faked her death. Will knows you because he was the leader of our IMF protection detail in Croatia, and he doesn’t look surprised because I told him Julia was alive when we all met up in Seattle.”

The woman, who’d been leaning against the wall looking dangerous — Julia couldn’t decide if it was more her cheekbones or the knife at her waist, then decided it was both — huffed out a laugh. “Well, congratulations on not being dead.”

“Thanks,” Julia said.

“I’m Jane. We probably just ruined your lunch plans, so I think room service is on Ethan.” She grinned. 

Julia sat shakily down on the bed. “So...” she said. “That weather balloon or whatever taking off the top of that building in San Francisco last year was totally you guys, wasn’t it?”

“That’s classified,” all four of them said, simultaneously, and Julia started laughing.


End file.
